


Home to Roost

by Akiko_Natsuko



Series: The Zine Collection [2]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Blood and Injury, Dungeons & Dragons 5th Edition, Family, Flashbacks, Gen, Guilt, Memories, Regret
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-08
Updated: 2018-11-08
Packaged: 2019-08-20 08:24:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,785
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16552304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Akiko_Natsuko/pseuds/Akiko_Natsuko
Summary: Torbjörn has built a life for himself, for his family, trying to leave the past and their clanless status behind. But the past always has a way of catching up with you.





	Home to Roost

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Dungeonwatch Zine.

       The embers danced against Torbjörn’s skin as the forge came to life; it was a welcome burst of warmth in the chill early morning, and the familiar sensation brought a small smile to his lips. The forge was small, nothing like the grand ones of his childhood, but it was enough and for a few minutes he relaxed as he coaxed the flames to life, listening to the sounds of his family waking in the small cottage across the clearing. However, the peaceful mood dissipated with the soft whirring noise from behind him. Satisfied the forge was alight, he turned to gaze at its source.

     Bastion was sat under the shelter of the large willow tree that had called the clearing home far longer than any of them, looking completely at ease in the sunlight that was creeping into the clearing. It cast a warm glow over the foliage that had grown over the beast of metal and gears until he looked as though he was part of the forest surrounding him. On his shoulder Ganymede was preening himself, completely at ease with the druid, and it would have been an innocent sight were it not for what Torbjörn knew about Bastion’s past and the role he had played in it.

 For a moment the sunlight seemed to dim, the peaceful clearing and forge disappearing around him…

_Metal grinds, heavy bodies that shouldn’t be able to move under their own steam coming to life around him, and for a moment there’s relief and triumph. The long months of work and scholarship, the endless nights of bending metal to his will in this forge finally being rewarded and as he watches his creations lumbering to their feet. He whispers a prayer of thanks to Dugmaren Brightmantle. With life, his creations will have a purpose; they will lift his Clan above the others and keep them safe from the recent human incursions into their mountains._

_He’s not entirely sure when the air changes. Metal grinds to a halt as the clear opals he had used to craft the eyes shimmer with unholy light. Weapons are raised as they swivel to face him, menace in the hard lines of their bodies._

_“Stop,” he orders them, not sure what’s happening but certain they will listen to him. They don’t, the light in their eyes growing brighter, and then they’re moving with a purpose that he doesn’t understand, at least until half of them split off. Terror seizes him as he realises that their focus has shifted towards the rest of the village._

_“No!” He snatches up his heavy hammer, the same one that helped to give them life, fingers trembling as he hears screams in the distance. “Stop! Please, Stop!”_

_This isn’t why I created you…_

“Papi!” The voice, one that had no connection with that fateful morning, pierced through the memories, breaking their hold on him and he gasped, breathing for what felt like the first time, even as he turned towards the noise. Brigitte was stood in the doorway, stooping in a way that betrayed her dwarven heritage, one arm looped around a bloodied Tiefling who looked as though he had seen better days despite the wild grin on his lips. He heard Bastion let out a worried chirps a second Tiefling appeared behind his daughter, looming above all of them, the blood caking his features doing little to soften the daunting image.

“You’ve been fighting again.” It wasn’t the first thing that came to mind, his fingers inching towards the hammer on the forge as he eyed the Tieflings, before focusing on Brigitte. He scowled as he took in the fresh gash on her cheek and the wince she didn’t quite manage to hide as she shifted her burden’s weight, although there was a fire in her eyes as she met his gaze.   

“They needed help.”   

“I should never have let you spend so much time with Reinhardt,” Tjorbörn grumbled under his breath, but there was no heat in his words for all that he wished the paladin hadn’t taught his daughter to follow in his footsteps, because he knew that the Goliath had only ever wanted to make sure she could protect herself. The quirk of her lips told him she had caught the fondness in his voice, and he growled under his breath before glancing beyond the trio to where Bastion was sat, head tilted to the side as he watched them with interest.

“We need Zenyatta, and don’t go wandering off again,” he told the druid, adding the warning as Bastion immediately let out an excited whistle at the thought of visiting the cleric turned monk, knowing that if he didn’t then they might not see him for days if not weeks. The order earned him a rude noise before the druid nodded and melted away into the treeline, and Torbjörn turned back just in time to spy the smaller Tiefling reaching for a narrow chest on one of the shelves. “Touch that and you’ll lose a hand.”

“Is that any way to treat a guest?” the Tiefling demanded, amber eyes alight with mischief, whilst its companion let out a noise that was somewhere between a groan and a growl. Tjorbörn arched an eyebrow at Brigitte, who was in the middle of wiping the blood off her cheek.

“Reinhardt told me that everyone is worth shielding,” she muttered, eyeing the Tieflings as though seeing them for the first time, before she shrugged. “Besides we’re in no place to judge.” The words were spoken softly, but it didn’t erase the sting and he had to look away, hands curling into fists. No, they weren’t in any place to judge. They were clanless, his name stripped from him after his creations had destroyed his village and whilst he bore his wife’s name with as much pride as possible, it was a wound that would never heal, and one that he shared with his children. “Papi…”

“You’re right.” He didn’t want the apology, offering her a tight smile before turning to the Tieflings and gesturing to the low bench on the far side of the forge. “Sit.” He felt a glimmer of sympathy as the smaller one limped heavily to the seat, the larger Tiefling watching him with obvious concern. A kindness that he must’ve learned from Reinhardt made him add quietly, “Help will be here soon.”

   The four of them settled in awkward silence, Brigitte coming to lean beside him, her presence a soothing balm after the surge of memories. He would have been happy to wait without speaking, but the larger Tiefling broke the silence.

“That creature…” His voice was like a deep rumble of thunder, and yet hesitant, as though he was more used to silence, but his gaze was even as he met Torbjörn’s confused gaze before tilting his head towards where Bastion had been sat. “What is he?” Brigitte tensed at the question, aware that the topic was a sore one, but Torbjörn held up a hand to stop her because there was something in the Tiefling’s gaze that said this wasn’t the first time he’d seen something like Bastion.

“A creation of mine, from a long time ago.” It hurt to admit, even to these strangers who likely had no idea what he meant, or what it had cost him and his people. “A different lifetime.” A life where he’d been hungry for knowledge, for acknowledgement. A life where he’d had a clan, a name and a place among his own people.

“Bastion is different from most,” Brigitte interjected, armoured hand coming to rest on his shoulder, squeezing lightly to pull him out of his memories. “Peaceful, and so is Zenyatta, unlike…”

“Unlike the ones that did this.” It was the smaller Tiefling, wincing as he sat up and lifted the tattered tunic he was wearing. The colour drained from Torbjörn’s face as he took in the heavy scarring against tan skin, scars that spoke of gears and metal projectiles. For a moment all he could see were the bodies on the ground, family and friends reduced to husks of their former self, and his mouth was dry as he asked.

“How…?”

“We encountered them in the north.” The larger Tiefling was the one to reply, a large hand brushing against his horns, which Tjorbörn realised for the first time were misshapen; one ended abruptly, as though metal blades had sheared it off. “Jamison took the brunt of the attack, and we were lucky to escape.”

“Have there been other attacks?” Torbjörn didn’t want the answer; he didn’t want to know how badly he had failed, how far the destruction he had unleashed on the world had spread. He had searched for a way to stop them, to undo the life he had created, but nothing he tried had worked. Even Winston and his Halfling assistant hadn’t been able to find anything in the archives to help. He’d wasted half his life searching for those answers and failing, and in the end, he had settled and made a life for himself, a home and a family far removed from his past. He never stopped looking, but he had found a measure of peace here and could feel it cracking under the watchful gaze of the visitors. Jamison met his gaze, and it was impossible to read his expression as he scratched at one goat-like horn before nodding to his companion.

“Show him, Mako.”

    There was a dull clanking noise as the larger Tiefling dropped a large haversack onto the ground in front of him, sharing a look with Jamison before slowly pulling open the rope at the top. Brigitte and Torbjörn leant forward, a shared dread curling around them. The bag was filled with gears and the same opals that he had seen alight that night, and something halfway between fury, relief and grief gripped him as he moved forward, reaching for the top gear with trembling fingers. _So many…_ His fingers curled around it, and he lifted his head at Brigitte’s alarmed noise and the rasp of metal, unsurprised to find himself staring along the length of a curved shortsword, into amber eyes that held an almost unholy light.

“And since you seem to know a lot about them, how about you tell us how to stop them…” It wasn’t a request, and he could hear Brigitte shifting, ready to protect him if this turned nasty, but he held out a hand to stop her, meeting the Tiefling’s burning gaze and seeing reflected in it his own failures and the accusations that had followed him through the years. His voice trembled as he admitted the truth.

“I don’t know.”

 


End file.
